


When it is Light

by AKA_47



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKA_47/pseuds/AKA_47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pride makes it hard to listen. It clouds judgment and influences decisions. When Mac goes to prison with the name of the source, Will makes it his mission to get her out, but pride is a powerful thing and Mac isn't sure the end justifies the means. When all is said and done how do you forgive someone for asking too little of you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	When it is Light

**Author's Note:**

> Mac gets the name of the source from Neal rather than Will. More notes at the end.

She missed her shoes. Sure, she missed Will and Jim and Charlie and Sloan. She missed doing the news and she missed her 1/3 finished apartment, but on day 16 of living in a cell, this day, she missed her shoes. If she picked one thing to miss a day it wasn’t so overwhelming, it felt less like her life was spiraling desperately out of control. She read. She hadn’t had time to read since she was in school, but she had time now. Will read too. It would have been funny were it not so tragic, a twisted book club where his visits were partially taken up by book discussion even though she was reading _To the Lighthouse_ and he couldn’t stand it. (“Couldn’t you pick Hemmingway or something? Geez.”). She planned on Faulkner next just to spite him. So, they talked about Virginia Woolf and how Don and Sloan were now officially a couple even if they refused to admit it, and they didn’t talk about the immeasurable number of days apart that stretched before them. On the days when he visited, Will was always the thing that she missed.

He was mad at her. Mad didn’t quite do it justice actually. Furious, livid, would have been better choices. He wanted the name of the source, wanted her to make him her scapegoat, but that wasn’t her M.O. It never had been. She was always one to test her limits, always one to take responsibility for her actions. She’d asked Neal for the source. It was her secret, not his. She could bear the burden. He didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, he’d been responsible for everyone in his life for too long. She cringed at the thought of their last fight before she’d been arrested.

“They’re going to put you in jail!” Will had raged, annunciating his words like she was a child.

“I know!” She could shout too, and she proved it, raising her hands in exasperation.

“Give me the name.” He had glared at her, and she had laughed.

“Yes, sir,” she had given a mock salute, “because you asked so nicely—No, Will, if I give you the source you’re going to try and trade places with me.”

“Damn right I am. You don’t know what it’s going to be like, Mac, it’s not some spa.”

And he’d said it like it wasn’t the most condescending statement on the planet, with a straight face, like she was some pampered elite princess.

“Okay,” she’d said, deliberately hitting her shoulder against him as she’d stormed into what would one day be the living room. She’d blinked hard, trying to rid herself of the angry haze that clouded them. She could hear him following, and she’d spun around, bringing him up short so that there was barely any space between them.

“Just curious,” she’d fumed, “do you know me at all, or did you forget that I have _never_ taken the easy assignment, never just sat around and let other people do the difficult work? Nice to know what you think of me though. Glad you have such low expectations.” She’d tried to resume her furious trek across the house, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her close to him again.

She’d almost slapped him. In that moment she had honestly been afraid that she would, but then she saw his face, the _fear_ that laid there, and a chill had run through her. He didn’t say, _last time I let you go you were shot at and stabbed_ , but she could see it. “Don’t belittle me,” she warned, but there was no bite in her words.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t do this, Mac. Give me the name.”

It was the one thing she couldn’t do for him, compromise herself, choose her comfort over the man she loved. He was asking too much by asking nothing of her. It had taken hours for him to accept that she wouldn’t do it. It wasn’t until the sunrise had started to chase away the shadows of the apartment that he had finally held her close.

“Marry me today,” she said it between kisses, the kind that seemed more like he was trying to memorize the feel of her lips against his than anything else.

He had taken her face in his hands, looking at her hard, and for one heart stopping moment she thought he would agree, but he’d shaken his head. “When you get out. You’ll have the wedding you’ve always wanted. Hell, I’ve already paid for most of it.”

They’d taken her engagement ring of course. That was what she missed on day 4. She thought of it as she cracked open her novel, but she wasn’t allowed to miss it. Not today. So, she focused hard on the words on the page, _“To want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have- to want and want- how that wrung the heart, and wrung it again and again!”_

She slammed the book shut. “I don’t appreciate the irony, Virginia,” she said, glaring at the offending thing on the mattress.

She looked up at the sound of footsteps down the hall, more than a little surprised as the guard came to a stop outside her cell, unlocking it…

\----

In her wildest dreams, Mac never thought that she would be trying to get herself thrown _back_ in prison, but she struggled against Will’s grip on her arm, craning her neck to plead her case to the guard (who she knew had nothing to do with anything, he was just the unfortunate soul who had the job of getting her the hell out of there, but someone had to see reason), who was shaking his head. “No! This is ridiculous. Let go of me!” She whipped her head around, glaring daggers at Will.

He sighed, but made no other move to show he’d heard her, and he only let her go when they were safely outside. “What did you do?” She demanded, even though Rebecca had explained it to her. She rubbed her arm even though it didn’t hurt, because it was something to do other than hit him.

Will hung his head, not as though he’d been caught, but in exacerbation. “I told you, Neal did it all on his own. He wasn’t going to let you sit in prison for him. So, he came back and turned himself in.”

“And you had nothing to do with it?” She raised her eyebrows skeptically.

“Nothing. They have news in South America, Mac. The kid loves the internet, you know he’s been keeping tabs on us.”

“I don’t believe you.” She walked ahead of him, hugging her arms around her chest and listening to her heels click on the pavement. She didn’t miss them now, she wanted to throw them at Will.

“Hey!” Came his offended voice from behind her, “I’m the one who told Neal to run. Why would I have done that if I was just gonna turn around and convince him to get himself arrested?”

She laughed mirthlessly and her eyes were cold when she turned to answer. “Because you didn’t know that _I_ knew the source. You didn’t know I would go to jail. Jesus, Will, your opinion of me isn’t very high is it?”

She pulled out her phone, dialing with shaking fingers. The anger coursed through her like it was her very pulse.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t look at him as she put the phone up to her ear. “Calling Sloan.”

He put his hand to her shoulder, trying to ignore how her muscles went rigid under his touch, “No, Mac—it’s true I didn’t like you being in there. It sucked. It should have been me--”

She held up her hand to silence him. “Sloan, could I stay with you? Yeah. Okay. Thanks.” She kept her words clipped for fear that Will would hear her voice tremble. She tucked her phone back into her pocket.

“That’s it right there,” she waited until she could tell that he was listening. It looked as though the phone call had left him blindsided. “You wanted it to be you. You wanted me to play damsel in distress. I would _never_ treat you like that, Will. When you make a decision to do something, something that really matters, when do I try to stop you? Don’t try to make me less than what I am, Will.”

She walked away from him then. It took all her strength to do it. There was a part of her, a much stronger part than she would let show, that wanted to run into his arms and never let go, but she couldn’t give into it. It would be like saying that she agreed, that it was okay, that she understood.

“I’m getting a cab. Don’t follow me.”

“Mac!” He couldn’t stop himself from taking a step forward and she quickened her stride.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” She was glad she was far enough away that he couldn’t see the tears that streaked her cheeks.

\----

“Kenze, you know that you can stay with me as long as you want, but eventually we’re going to have to talk about this.”

Mac examined the skirt in her hand, scrutinizing the price tag. “We’re really not.”

“Kenzie,” Sloan tried, “you’re buying a new wardrobe instead of going to your apartment.”

“That’s because I live with a child who makes decisions without consulting me.” She shot Sloan a look that made it clear that was the end of the argument.

Sloan had never been very good at reading those looks, or caring about them for that matter. She pressed on as Mac slung the skirt over her arm. “Did you even call him?”

“I did.” She worked to make her voice sound detached. If she was going to have to play 20 questions she was going to do it her way.

“And?”

“And nothing. I told him I was safe and I would see him on Monday.”

“So you’re going to work?”

Mac scoffed, “Of course I’m going to work and I think I’m going to wear this,” she brandished the outfit in her hands with a smile she didn’t feel.

\----

Mac loved the control room. She loved the physical space of it, the lights, the monitors, the switches and buttons. She loved how it made her feel, like everything made sense. Everything seemed to click into place when she was in there. She always knew exactly what to do. There was always a solution to the problems. She was never at a loss. She was the one with all the information. She was the one who knew what direction to go in and she did it all so calmly. It was where she was meant to be. The only place, really.

It was the first place she went when she came into work on Monday. She ran her fingers lightly over the switches and stared at the monitors. They were dark, but she knew that in a few hours they would be showing _her_ show. There was a power in that, a pride. If there was one thing Mackenzie had no shortage of it was pride. It had taken her exactly the duration of the cab ride away from him to realize that it was her pride that made her fight with Will. It was a stupid reason and she’d nearly wept when she realized that even if Will had convinced Neal to turn himself in, it was only because he loved her, not because he didn’t respect her (what kind of respect comes from sitting in a cell anyway? It doesn’t require effort or strength. It’s a matter of patience). But her pride was wounded and she didn’t turn around, and because she was still trying to mend it, she didn’t know how to forgive him for loving her.

Will had pride too, the pride of someone who had to prove over and over that he was strong and capable. He had chosen to be with someone who was more than capable of taking care of herself, but he still wanted to lift burdens from her because he could handle it, her problems and his problems and the staff’s problems, all of them were Will’s. It wasn’t about her. It was about him.

“Shit.” She shook her head as the realization hit her.

“I thought you’d be in here.” Will had a way of trying to make himself look smaller when he was trying to apologize, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets. She smiled sadly at seeing him like that.

She shrugged, “I usually make good decisions in here.”

He nodded slowly, “and what did you decide today?” He sounded almost afraid to ask.

“That this is one of those _rare_ moments where I’ve been an idiot.”

He smiled at her emphasis on the word “rare” and some of the tension between them melted away. “You weren’t so bad.”

“You’re only saying that because you want us to stop fighting.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, glancing at him shyly.

“Mackenzie, that’s the only reason I say anything.”

Slowly she reached out her hand, crossing the gulf between them. A peace offering that he took gratefully, knotting his fingers with hers and rubbing his thumb in circles against the back of her hand.

“I didn’t tell Neal to come back,” he assured her, “but I should never have made you feel like you aren’t the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

She laughed, a real laugh that lit her eyes and turned her cheeks pink. He could never help smiling at her when she laughed like that.

“I should have trusted you,” she said simply.

“Eh, everyone behaves badly—given the chance.”

Mac cocked her head to the side, not letting go of Will’s hand as she walked back toward the bullpen. “Huh?”

“It’s _The Sun Also Rises_ —Hemmingway. Jesus, did they teach you anything but feminist literature at Cambridge?”

Mac pressed herself into his side as they walked, “You should read it to me. When we get home.” She smiled up at him, squeezing his hand in the promise of forever.

**Author's Note:**

> As a side note, I hate Virginia Woolf, and the title comes from a quote from The Sun Also Rises, "There is no reason why because it is dark you should look at things differently from when it is light.” I also realize that Will's quote is a paraphrase of the actual line from the book, but what can you do? I wanted Mac to be angry in this story, so I hope it didn't come off as needlessly so. I tried to give her some justification. Hope you enjoyed.


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